


A Philosophy of Violence

by crocodileinterior



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Boarding School, Gen, References to Smallville but not really Smallville characterization...?, poor little billionaires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24430270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodileinterior/pseuds/crocodileinterior
Summary: Bruce and Lex have a history with each other. (Bruce and Lex at boarding school).
Relationships: Lex Luthor & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	A Philosophy of Violence

When Bruce was eleven years old, he’d punched a reporter in the face and smashed his camera. It was his first year at boarding school- Excelsior Academy, an elite prep school in New England where only the children of the uber rich were accepted. Bruce was a quiet and unhappy child then- stoic and pale and precociously fierce. It was not uncommon for him to get in fights with the other children when he’d first arrived. He was small, and an orphan, and children of privilege are cruel. But after some time he was more or less left alone, because it didn’t take very long for the other children to realize that no matter how much older, or bigger, or stronger the bully was, Bruce Wayne, short and thin and pale as he was, would rather be beaten into the dirt than ever yield and once a wrong was done against him, even if it was delayed, Bruce would find a way to retaliate against the person in equal measure. In no time at all Bruce only had to give his best glower to send his would-be tormenters running. They learned what usually followed his glares. More than that, Bruce was indifferent to the teasing and it was no fun to pick on someone so apathetic.

He had good grades but was not well liked by his professors. Was athletic but did not socialize well. An enigmatic student who talked to others very rarely but was talked about frequently. For most, the incident with the reporter faded into a tapestry of other similarly exciting and mysterious things Bruce did while at Excelsior Academy.

While Bruce’s behavior often seemed inexplicable there was one person at least who knew the truth behind the reporter incident because he’d been the key witness as well as the instigator, and that was Lex Luthor.

Lex Luthor was four years older than Bruce and also a scion to a large family fortune. Lex also had excellent grades and was also unpopular. Lex’s father was infamous in the corporate world and many of the father’s of the other students of Excelsior had been undercut or swindled by him in some way or another, leaving his son vulnerable to their intergenerational hatred. His unpopularity was amplified by the fact that Lex had lost his hair from some illness or accident that had left him completely bald at age nine. The gossip pages in the newspapers at the time had reported on it with a note of schadenfreude toward Lionel Luthor, maybe some thought it was retribution that misfortune fall his young son after a lifetime of evil doings. Headlines called him the ‘hairless heir’. Lex’s peers deemed him a freak of nature and from the time of his enrollment he was a frequent victim to the older, bigger, and more mean spirited boys. Whatever inner core of strength that Bruce had that made him impervious to the type of cruelty his schoolyard enemies tried to inflict on him, Lex was lacking it. While Bruce seemed immovable, Lex was quick to fury, and he hated to be picked on by people who were physically dominant to him but who were intellectually inferior to him- which was nearly everyone. What Lex had, instead, was an almost neurotic, strident, ambitiousness that manifested itself in the schoolroom, in their fencing matches, in chess club or debate team. But the desperation of this ambition, the neediness of it, only provided more ammunition to his classmates who could now add being a know-it-all to his list of flaws and who lived to see him fail. His high intelligence and drive was to them just another thing that made him a freak, in need of being knocked down a few pegs.

Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne lived in the same dorm building in Bruce’s first year but were not particularly friendly. That was why it seemed strange to the other students who’d seen it, that Bruce had punched that reporter for Lex.

It had been a grey Tuesday and they’d been walking with the rest of the students from the dorm to class, when a camera had flashed abruptly and Lex had blinked, disoriented. A few of the other kids parted out of the way or kept walking. It wasn’t so unusual for young Luthor to be ambushed by paparazzi who’d snuck onto the grounds. His father’s name was rarely out of the paper and a quote from or photograph of his sickly, freakish, son often added an extra draw to the article. But that day it was different.

The reporter shoved a tape recorder next to Lex’s mouth and said “I’m from The Inquisitor. Do you have a statement you’d like to make about your mother’s death?”

Lex didn’t speak. He didn’t look like he had the capacity to at that moment, though his lips parted. All the color had drained from his face.

“Our sources at the hospital confirmed her death at 5 A.M. this morning. Is there a reason you weren’t present at the hospital at the time of her passing? Have you spoken to your father? What are the plans for the funeral arrangements in Metropolis? Is it true your father was having an affair with her nurse?”

Lex’s silence continued. His eyes were set on some far away point, unseeing. Like he’d exited his body and it only remained upright by some quirk of gravity. Because it was the first he was hearing of it. So his mother was dead.

And then Bruce punched the reporter. He’d had to stand on tip toes and swing upward to achieve it but the blow was impactful. And the reporter doubled over, grabbing at his nose which was bleeding. And Bruce grabbed the man’s camera and smashed it on the ground. It shattered, leaving a corona of broken glass and black plastic across the pavement and a sound that echoed in the ensuing silence.

Bruce did this all wordlessly and with a detached, matter-of-fact, attitude.

The reporter began to yell in protest but Bruce had calmly taken hold of Lex’s arm and was pulling him behind him, and to the reporter he said simply “We have to go to class now.” And walked away.

He had blood on the knuckles of the clenched hand at his side, and the bruising on them that would linger for days would be the only evidence Bruce showed that anything had occurred.

Bruce and Lex continued to not be friends after that day. The next year they both switched dorms and lived on separate sides of the campus. Lex, being a few grades higher, only occasionally crossed paths with Bruce and their interactions were often unremarkable and furthermore, not very warm. In fact, despite that brief act of camaraderie that they’d shared on that day, the two had seemingly grown apart in opposite directions.

By the time Bruce was fourteen he was in talks to be advanced a grade, was excelling in his martial arts extracurriculars and spoke four languages. Lex, by then a senior, had developed his own power at the school. With a turning point at roughly sixteen, Lex had begun to grow into himself physically and at the same time developed a penchant for bad behavior.

With a keen business sense inherited from his father, it came as no surprise that Lex was highly enterprising but his newfound extracurriculars were far from school approved. In short, he was running a thriving import-export of cocaine, marijuana, and various prescription drugs between Metropolis and the dorms. Not that drugs on a prep school campus were anything unusual but Lex excelled at nearly everything he put his mind to. He’d effectively cornered the majority of the market of the campus and it was rumored that some of what he sold was even cut with something of his own creation, made in the chemistry lab after hours, something that was already starting to gain a reputation on the streets and in the clubs of Metropolis. That part may have been nothing more than a rumor, after all, Lex himself denied it when it was brought up- laughing off that he had no real interest in pharmaceuticals, adding cryptically that aerospace and engineering would be the front on which the principle corporate battles of the next century would be waged.

It seemed Lex was able to get away with all this because he was additionally running some sort of blackmail racket that had maneuvered the head of the science department as well as the dean of students, and who knew how many other adults at the academy, effectively under his thumb. The adults weren’t the only ones. The other kids still called Lex a freak, but now they were too scared to say it to his face. Lex had achieved what he’d always wanted- he wasn’t liked by the other students but they were in his pocket and many of them feared him- or at least the more impressionable of them did. But Bruce was hardly impressionable.

Bruce found Lex’s behavior distasteful and made no attempt to hide his distaste. It wasn’t that Bruce was a stickler for the academy’s rules, which he himself often shirked, but as could be exemplified by the incident with the reporter as well as many others, Bruce had his own personal code of honor and when it came to that, he was unyielding.

On the other side of it, Lex certainly never acted like he owed Bruce any favors. In fact, he resented him. And he hated having any competition to be the smartest person in the room. They rarely went head to head academically, being in different years, but the school hardly seemed big enough to contain the force of two personalities like theirs. And in the fencing club, they frequently sparred, with a wordless vigor they seemed to reserve only for each other.

If either of them were less were less apathetic about it, it could almost be referred to as a rivalry. But it never really reared its head in any decisive way until that last year, in the garden, and yet at that time there were no witnesses to verify it.

It was a spring day when the campus air was heavy with heat and the perfume of lilacs, when Bruce slipped the procession of students in their perfectly pressed khakis and oxford shirts on their way to class, and took refuge in a hedge of hemlocks, coming out the other side into one of the campus gardens. He checked over his shoulder, between the leaves, to see if he’d been observed but no one had paused or backtracked to find him. The gardens on the campus were beautiful in the spring, bursting in blooms of kingsblood tulips and hellebores in preparation for tours of incoming students and parents and the spectacle of commencement. A water fountain bubbled a few yards away and in the shade were placed benches bearing the names of former donors on gold plates along with the school’s latin motto- “memoria pii aeterna.”

And on the bench shaded partially by a syringa reticulata shedding white petals, Lex was reclining, longs limbs splayed elegantly in a louche, overly orchestrated pose, his bare head cocked slightly askew in thought, a copy of The Genealogy of Morality balancing on his knee but translated in Mandarin. The whole scene looked staged. Like he was waiting for someone to show up to take his picture.

Just eighteen years old and a late bloomer, he was at the age where his body kept abruptly adding inches to his limbs without warning and his khakis ended a little short, revealing a glimpse of bare ankle. He’d always been slim but now there was an artistic angularity to his form whereas before he’d seemed so ungainly, almost colt-like. And Bruce knew from his experience of him in a duel that when he moved he was as lithe and swift as a snake. After years of being mocked for his appearance, he’d grown into himself and despite all odds, was… handsome. Even his baldness which had always made him stick out in a crowd among other teenagers, lent him a sort of mysterious allure and made him seem more mature. Only a slight softness at the curve of his jaw belayed how young he really was.

When he noticed Bruce he looked up and smiled, casual and lazy, like his mouth had nothing better to do so it might as well do this, though his eyes were sharp as they ever were.

“Wayne.” He said. “What are you doing here?”

Bruce gave a last glance through the bushes to see his classmates retreating, not noticing his absence, before turning.

“Hiding out.” he didn’t bother lying. Not to Lex. “I don’t want to go to English class.”

“Really? I saw Mrs.Timm in the hallway earlier today. She’s wearing one of those low cut cashmere sweaters that show off her cleavage. You might want to reconsider.” Lex mused, his tone almost clinically bored, without looking up from his book, dabbing his fingertip with the tip of his tongue before turning the page.

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “Is that a matter of interest?”

“Or lack thereof?” Lex said, still pretending to pay more attention to his reading than on Bruce. But Bruce saw his eyes slide in his direction, searching for a reaction, before returning to the page.

Distantly, someone in the school building was doing a violin tutorial and the Bach Chaconne in D Minor echoed harsh and tinny over the grounds. Must have been a freshman. The sound was making Bruce’s jaw twitch.

He strolled further into the clearing, invading the invisible border of Lex’s domain, where the smell of the flowers was headiest. He usually avoided Lex but if he left now, he’d likely be caught by a teacher. Though, having detention might be better than having to make conversation.

“Nice reading choice.” he feigned interest. “Didn’t know you could understand Mandarin.”

The corner of Lex’s mouth curled, cat-like. “Oh, I just picked it up recently.” he said breezily, as if it was the sort of thing one picked up as casually as learning a new card game.

“Why aren’t you in class?” Bruce asked.

At this, Lex perked up, finally looking away from his reading. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve already been early accepted to Princeton and Metropolis U.” His chin tilted back slightly, his shoulders falling back, unconsciously preening for Bruce’s benefit. “Scholarships from both, of course. Not that it was much of a surprise. With my SAT scores, they’ll practically pay _me_ just to go to their school.”

Unsurprising, Bruce thought, that Lex’s ego would flourish under such attention. He made a half hearted attempt to suppress a scoff. “Like you need the money.”

Lex acted like he hadn’t heard him, continuing in a bitter tone, “So I hardly bother showing up for class _here_ anymore, where the median IQ of the room barely tops 100. I’m sick of politician’s sons and society brats who lack the imagination to aspire to be anything more than a parasite that feeds on familial wealth. Taking on some nominal position under their father’s companies.”

Lex had always adamantly said he wanted to build something separate than this father’s empire, even when he was a kid. They had a notoriously bad relationship. While other children came back from spending holidays with their parents looking joyful and with arms laden with new gifts and expensive clothes, Lex always came back from holidays looking pale and fragile, ever since his mother passed.

“And you really think Princeton will be any better?” Bruce asked skeptically.

Lex waved his hand dismissively. “I already have the knowledge to be a graduate from any of these schools. What matters is the resources and connections they can provide. Once you’re an adult you have ownership over your own intellectual property, then you can patent, which leads to industry, and ultimately I have corporate ambitions.”

Bruce could easily imagine Lex as a mad scientist in a white lab coat or as a board room tyrant, both equally frightening. 

“And what will you do?” Lex asked. “Gotham University?”

Bruce shrugged, giving him the same, half lie, answer he usually gave when the school guidance counsellor asked him the same thing: “Not sure. I’ll probably travel for a bit after high school. Maybe join the Peacecorps or something like that. Help people.”

This time it was Lex’s turn to scoff.

Bruce gave him a disapproving look. “What? You don’t care about making the world a better place?” he drawled, half joking. Knowing what Lex’s answer would be.

“I save my pity for myself.” Lex quipped. “Us poor little billionaires have enough tragedy on our own, don’t we?”

Bruce smiled wryly. There was a grain of truth to it. They were two of the richest boys at the school. And easily the most miserable. And miserable children, he thought, rarely grow up to be good people. He likely wouldn’t and he didn’t think Lex would either. They’d always been rather alike. More alike than Bruce would’ve preferred.

“There’s lots of other tragedies in the world, Lex. Besides yours and mine.”

“Yes. And you’ve always acted like it was your job to solve them, haven’t you?” Lex said and there was suddenly acid in his voice that Bruce hadn’t expected. But Lex continued, “You think there’s something wrong with the world and that you’re the one who’s going to fix it. But you can’t because there is no such thing as how things ‘should be’, there is only how things are.”

Bruce stared at him, not saying a word in response, but Lex seemed content to monologue.

“You’re wasting your time trying to make things ‘better’ in the world. Someone is always going to be suffering and helpless and someone else is always going to be prospering and in power. It’s preferable to be the latter. You have money, you’re sharp, I’ve even seen your GPA and PSAT scores, there’s no reason for you to have to be the former.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him. “And since when do you know so much about me?”

Lex shrugged one shoulder. “I have an acquaintance in student records. He lets me look through whatever files I want. Not that I couldn’t have broken into the office myself if I’d really wanted to- the security here is laughable.”

“You shouldn’t go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Bruce warned him, but Lex looked completely unfazed.

“It’s not just you I’ve looked into. I’m curious about all of my competition at this school.”

“And did it sate your curiosity?”

Lex rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”

“Then what was it you wanted to know?”

He paused for a moment, to think. “Your philosophy, I suppose. Why you act like you do. Why you are the way you are.”

“You mean why I’m not more like you?” Bruce asked.

Lex stilled, his smile caught in place on his mouth but his eyes dark, belaying nothing.

Bruce sighed. “I believe in things that you don’t. I believe in justice.”

At that, Lex brought his hand to his mouth like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Well, I suppose you are still a child, after all.”

Bruce fixed him with a glare. “That’s childish to you?”

“Don’t be such a cliche. What is justice? To protect the innocent and punish those who would take advantage of them? It just attempts to break the world up into a binary of people who have been wronged and people to seek vengeance against. But wasn’t it Bertrand Russell who said- ‘life is nothing but a competition to be the criminal rather than the victim’?”

“Are you done? With that debate club oratorial?” Bruce said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lex ignored him. “The truth is, there are no innocents. Everyone tries to get what they want. Some people use kindness to manipulate, or follow the rules hoping one day what they want will be delivered to them by someone stronger and benevolent because they’re too weak to take it themselves. Those people are only ‘innocent’ because of their weakness and their fear of retribution. There is no evil either. Evil is just the name people give to things that hurt them. Evil people are only those with the power and the will to take what they need. People like to say that ‘power corrupts absolutely’ but power means choices, it means freedom. And when people are given the power to choose their own destiny, anyone would choose to be self interested.”

He spoke with just the right touch of ideological fanaticism. It made his face flush slightly with excitement. It made Bruce’s stomach turn. They looked at each other and both knew they were thinking along the same lines- that Bruce hated Lex. And that Lex was glad that Bruce hated him, because there had once been a time when he didn’t and when Bruce had thought Lex was a victim in need of protecting. And Lex would rather be anything than that. 

“So?” Lex said. “What do you think?”

“I think you read too much Nietzsche.” Bruce said evenly.

Lex laughed, tapping the cover of the book on his lap. “I would’ve thought this was you all over. Self conquest. Der wille zur macht. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, you have as much to prove as I do.”

“I’m not like that.” Bruce muttered, but Lex heard him.

“Well maybe you ought to be.” The ever present lazy smile on his face started to curl at the corners into a sneer. “There’s lots of students here who will never amount to anything. Because real life isn’t boarding school. If you want to survive and turn things in your favor, you have to adapt. Otherwise you have nothing to blame for your misfortune but your own shortcomings.”

Bruce looked at Lex and wondered if that’s what he’d call it- adapting. He could still see in him the boy who’d cried himself to sleep in his bunk every night because the other kids called him a freak. The boy who’d been older than him but who Bruce had felt sorry for. He didn’t think he would ever feel sorry for him again.

“You think that’s an accomplishment?” Bruce said. “To turn into your father?”

The slit of Lex’s mouth widened, revealing a glimpse of white teeth. “At least I have a father.”

It was not on reflex. It was a choice. But it was a split second one, and decisive. Lex had no time to block or avoid the blow. Bruce’s fist smashed into the center of Lex’s face, knocking him clear off the bench. The book on his lap fell open onto the grass, a drop of Lex’s blood staining the spine. He only hit him once, then turned on his heel and walked away.

Behind him, Lex grabbed his own face, blood pooling on his palm from his freshly split lip. “You’re a freak, Wayne!” He shouted after him. “You’re a fucking freak!”

Bruce clenched his hand unconsciously by his side, not turning around or slowing his pace. He had blood on his knuckles and he knew now from experience, that the bruising on them would linger.

**_End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I'd had the headcanon about Bruce and Lex and the reporter for a REALLY long time practically since watching the first season of Smallville. So I always wanted to incorporate it into a fic....But then I also had this idea for an argument Bruce and Lex could get in. One of my favorite parts of Lex's character is I think he's someone who's so power hungry because he's experienced powerlessness and he's desperate to not be in that position again. I sort of wanted to write about Bruce being a witness to that progression. I think Bruce is really similar in that way he also wants to be strong so that he's never helpless again. But I think their core values are different. I'm not sure if I actually got that across in this fic or not, or the cycle of Bruce protecting Lex by punching someone who he thought was malicious to Bruce punching Lex for being malicious, or Lex being the one to call Bruce a freak.... Or Lex purposefully inflaming Bruce because he'd rather be seen as his enemy than someone weak who needs protection. I guess if you have to explain your fic this much it probably isn't very good lol. But basically, I think Bruce and Lex at boarding school is very fertile headcanon ground hahaha...

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Modus Operandi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435818) by [crocodileinterior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodileinterior/pseuds/crocodileinterior)




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